Snow On A Raven
by Xzeihoranth
Summary: Moments with the snow queen of Arendelle and the former Lamb of Columbia.
1. Snow On A Raven

Elizabeth tries to wake Elsa in the stillness before the dawn, knowing how much she loves to be up to watch the sun rise. "Elsa." she whispers, shaking her gently by the shoulder.

Elsa grumbles incoherently. "Anna... go back to sleep..." she murmurs.

Elizabeth smiles. "I'm not Anna." she says. "You have to get up or you'll miss the sunrise."

"Prove it." Elsa mumbles. "Prove you're not..." She yawns and rolls over. "A-Anna..." Her voice trails off and she's asleep again.

Elizabeth frowns, but only for a moment. Then she comes up with a plan. She lowers her hands beneath the bedsheets and begins to untie the queen's nightgown. Elsa is too busy snoring to notice. Not that she'd ever _admit_ to it; 'deep breathing', she'd call it. "I'll show you 'deep breathing'." Elizabeth says with an evil grin. She loosens the gown and lets it drift down to the bed, exposing Elsa's back and nothing else. Not yet. Elsa shifts uneasily, as if she notices something amiss.

Elizabeth trails her fingers sensuously down the queen's spine. "Elsa..." she almost hums. "Wake up Elsa..."

Elsa moans softly. Elizabeth takes this as her cue, and lowers the stub of her pinkie down to join the other fingers. The cold metal touch of the thimble is enough to give Elsa goosebumps. She awakens blearily. "'lizab'th..." she mumbles. "What 're you-" she starts to ask.

"Shhhh." the young girl tells her. "It's time to wake up, Elsa." She inches forward on the bed and rests her chin on Elsa's shoulder, sliding her hand under the queen's ribs and rubbing her thimbled finger up and down Elsa's side.

Elsa moans again. "Elizabeth..."

The girl can't take it any more. "Roll over." she whispers into Elsa's ear. The queen struggles to obey. Elizabeth sits up, throws away the covers and sits on top of the woman she loves, straddling her. Despite all she's seen and done, she still considers herself more of a girl to Elsa's flowering womanhood. The queen knows more of normal life than she ever will, even with her self-inflicted exile to her lonely room. All this ripples through Elizabeth's mind as she lifts away her lover's nightgown. Elsa is always embarrassed when she's naked, but all thoughts of decency and being a good girl are banished when Elizabeth starts to work. Nothing improper, nothing untoward, just caressing Elsa's bare skin with her soft gentle hands. It hadn't taken long for Elizabeth to realize how sensitive Elsa was when it came to being touched; in fact it was one of the first things she'd noticed when they'd started courting. She'd put her hand on Elsa's cheek during a kiss and felt the queen _jump_. They'd ended up bumping noses, spoiling the moment somewhat. Elsa couldn't stop apologizing, despite Elizabeth's repeated assurances that it was fine, as indeed it was.

The past and present and future are somewhat hard to distinguish when Elizabeth's mind starts to wander. _Somewhere out there_, she thinks, _we've only just met. We're only now kissing each other for the first time._ Sometimes, if she tries hard enough, she can even feel things as they happen. It's awfully frightening, to be lost in a crowd of yourself. More than once, Elsa's had to remind her which one of the millions and millions of possible Elizabeth DeWitts she really is. Elsa's held her hand as Elizabeth's mind spiralled away into the distant infinity of the multiverse, sometimes taking hours or even days to return.

Elizabeth hears Elsa call her name. "Elizabeth!" she says, all trace of sleep now gone from her voice. Elizabeth blinks repeatedly. She struggles to focus. "It happened again, didn't it?" Elsa asks. Elizabeth nods. "It's getting worse." Elsa says in helpless worry. "It's like you're fading away." Elizabeth nods again. Suddenly she realizes how tired she is, and almost falls off of the queen. Elsa reaches out to steady her, easing her back onto the bed. "Can those...Luteces help?" Elsa asks. It's all so far beyond her, all this business with doors and parallel worlds. She'd always thought she'd been smart, not the smartest perhaps but smart, but she hadn't even known what smart was until she met Elizabeth.

"No." Elizabeth says vacantly. "They can't, or won't... I-I'm not sure what the difference is any more."

"Can you ask them?" Elsa asks, holding Elizabeth's damaged hand tightly in her own. "Can you...call them?"

"I already did, or tried. Tries, try, will try." Elizabeth makes an effort to focus. "I don't want to see them." she says. "I want to see _you_. Please..."

"No." Elsa says, stubborn like her sister. "We have to figure out what's wrong with you. We can do whatever this is later." She reaches for her nightgown, but Elizabeth stops her.

"Elsa," she says. Her voice is far away now, as are her eyes. Elsa knows that look. She knows that tone. It scares her. "I'll get used to it. It'll take me a while, a month maybe, or two." She's coming back to herself; she even tries to make a metaphor. "It's...growing pains. That's all." Elsa isn't convinced, but that terrible sense of otherworldiness is going away, and the life is coming back into Elizabeth's eyes. A ray of light shines through a gap in the curtains. Elizabeth squints and holds a hand up to cover her eyes, when suddenly Elsa kisses her. She can hardly help it. It's one of those moments where she can't stand how beautiful the woman she loves is. She's heard it said that you don't love someone because they're beautiful, but rather that they're beautiful _because_ you love them. But there are times for philosophy to take a hike. She may have been scared of Elizabeth at first, but she'd been scared of herself too. They both had.

Soon the kiss deepens, and Elsa finds herself back on the bed again. This time both their hands are at play. Elsa even feels bold enough to throw a little ice into play, though what it's used for is their business.


	2. In The Bleak Midwinter

Snow is falling across the fjord. Elsa tries not to think of it as 'real snow'; she tries to tell herself there's no real difference between what she can create and what nature herself can create, but it's hard. Even with Anna's persistent wonder at the magic Elsa can do, and even with the woman at her side, who's just a little bit shorter and yet still manages to dwarf her in so many ways, there are days when she feels just plain _wrong_, like a square peg in a rounded hole. She hesitates a while before she mentions it to Elizabeth.

The woman looks up. She too seems to hesitate before replying. "When I was with my father..." Even now, she has trouble saying his name. "...there were a lot of times I felt the same way. I can bring _dead_ people back to _life_. How is that..._possible_? How is that _right_?" She puts a hand on Elsa's arm. "But I can see it now; I understand. I'm all that's left of Columbia. And when I die, it'll all be over." Her voice, as always, is soft and pleasant, but that doesn't stop Elsa's heart from thumping painfully against her chest.

"Die?" she asks. "Wh-what do you mean...?"

Elizabeth smiles sadly. "For all my powers and seeing through time and space, I'm still human. I can still get sick, and get old, and one day...one day I'll die." She tightens her grip comfortingly. "Not for a while, though. You still have time to change your mind."

It's supposed to be a joke. Elsa's never been good with jokes. She sits upright. "Change my MIND?" she asks. "Why would I want to change my mind?" Her voice is tense. Desperate. "I LOVE you Elizabeth." she says. It trembles a little. "I-I know there are things you don't want to tell me-" There are things she doesn't want to tell her too, like how she'd been afraid of her when they first met; how she'd hated herself for days afterward; and how she'd almost considered locking herself in her room again. "-and there are things I have...trouble telling you..." Elsa admits at last. "But I want to...keep trying; I-"

Elizabeth kisses her. "Shhhh," she whispers against Elsa's mouth. "I'm here." There's a lump in her throat. She remembers the last time she said those words... "I'm not gonna leave you." she says and kisses her again. Elsa falls back slowly against the pillow, taking Elizabeth with her. For a while, there's nothing but the sound of snow against the window, and the quiet little noises people make when they're in love. Then Elizabeth grows tired once more and rests her head on Elsa's chest above her heart. She can hear it beating. She can feel it in her bones. It feels good.

* * *

Later, Elizabeth is walking by the study when she hears music. Elsa is playing the piano. She pokes her head in through the door. Anna is sitting beside her sister, entranced by the music. Elsa's fingers dance elegantly over the ivories, perfectly even. She always tries to be perfect. Elizabeth walks in as silently as she can. She knows this tune. She taught it to Elsa after consulting the Sea of Doors. The song's presence here is an anachronism to be sure, but it's easily repaired, for it will never leave the castle.

Elizabeth begins to hum. "Hmm hmm hmm hmm mmm..." Anna looks up, but Elsa only smiles. "Hmm mmm mmm, mmm mmm mmm... Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm... Mmm mmm mmm... mmm mmm, mmm mmm mmmm..."

And Elsa plays. Elizabeth is transported to a time long past yet still to come. She remembers the twilight that settled or will settle over the slums. She remembers the drop off the side that has yet to be created, and the man she walked through the streets with, the man she killed, because she loved him. And because he loved her, he let her kill him.

When the music ends, they are all in tears.

* * *

There are still so many things Elizabeth cannot do. She cannot look into the future of the ones she cares about, because to change too much might bring about the very events she seeks to avoid. She can't even look into her own future, nor to the world as it will be once she dies. If she interprets what she _can_ see however, and interprets it right, the only record of her ever existing here will be a picture with the queen that will be painted two years from now. Anthropologists and historians alike will debate the identity of this mystery woman off and on until the end of time. They will note the shortness of her hair, and its color. They will note the dress she is wearing, and the dress the queen will be wearing, and how they appear to both compliment and contrast one another. Some will argue it as artistic license. Others will declare it a bold rejection of cultural norms: two royal women who sought to love each other, and won. Perhaps they're both right. The artists _will _be good. And the women _do_ love each other.

* * *

The tears appear months before she does, as if the universe she has yet to find is waiting for her and preparing for her arrival. Most of the locals dismiss them as a combination of heat waves and magic left over from earlier in the summer. They say there's no such thing as other worlds. They might be better off that way.


End file.
